


how we wait so long (to come together)

by piratesails



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canon Related, F/M, Future Fic, Marriage Proposal, Post-Underworld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5426252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piratesails/pseuds/piratesails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma's been thinking about the future a lot lately and she's only got that piece of silver around her neck to blame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how we wait so long (to come together)

**Author's Note:**

> for [Ella](http://odonorude.tumblr.com)

They come home on a Tuesday. She thinks it’s a Tuesday anyway; being stuck in the Underworld (or Underbrooke as Henry took to calling it) will ruin a person’s sense of time.

They come home on a Tuesday and they’re sprung right back into the belly of the beast since the folks from Camelot decided that they’d take over running the town in their absence. She’s not surprised, honestly, and compared to Hades, these guys are nothing. But that doesn’t make it any easier.

She spends all her free time (and her not-so-free time) latched on to Killian - she knows it’s clingy and desperate and kind of pathetic but she’s watched him die three times, give her a break. Even when they’re trekking through the forest, she keeps a death grip on his hand, his arm, the unzipped corner of his jacket, anywhere her cold fingers can reach, really. Her nightmares are a terrible thing still, and she has to keep reminding herself that yes, he’s here and yes, he’s alive.

(She’s sure he knows it’s clingy and desperate and kind of pathetic, too, but he doesn’t say anything. Merely lets her tighten her arms around his waist when they finally get home for the night. Runs his fingers down the chain of her necklace with a soft smile and tightens his own embrace when they lay down to sleep. And she loves him that much more for it.)

-/-

The ring has become a thing of habit. Maybe even a part of her, considering she never takes it off.

She doesn’t know when it started, back in Camelot probably, but she notices it. Notices that her fingers unconsciously keep reaching for it. Keep tracing the shape of it and digging into the delicate carvings.

In the Underworld, she’d clutched on to it for hours until the patterns imprinted on to her palm, the emptiness in Killian’s eyes leaving her empty herself.

(That’s another thing she latches on to - the fact that he  _remembers_. She doesn’t say it but every time he curls his hand into her hair in that habitual way, her heart swells.)

Liam’s eyes had widened when he spotted the charm ( _his_  charm) around her neck and she’d had no concise answer to give him when he’d looked at her with a questioning furrow in his brows. The one that looked far too much like Killian’s. 

The fact that she’d been able to meet Liam at all was one thing. The fact that Killian didn’t remember, couldn’t introduce her to his brother, that was another.

(She’d wanted to cry, or punch something, or both.)

(She’s not a big fan of memory loss curses, sue her.)

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t slipped the ring off its chain and right onto the finger of her left hand. She’d done it after Killian had sacrificed himself and she’d done it during nights in the Underworld when she couldn’t fall asleep and she’d done it a handful of times since they’d returned.

She’s never thought of marriage, really, and especially not with as much intensity as she’s thinking of it now. But -

She stares at the circle of silver, the red gem in the middle shining under the moonlight while she lays awake, Killian solid behind her. And she thinks of the kiss (the _true love’s kiss_ , for God’s sake) that brought his memories back.

But it  _is_  kind of her style.

-/-

“Hullo, Swan,” he grins down at her, dimples flashing. And she realises that she’s been counting his smiles lately, cataloguing them carefully because she doesn’t want to miss a single thing.

The Camelot takeover situation was resolved two days ago and they’ve had peace since then. (As much peace as they can get with Leroy still starting bar fights, she figures.) Which is why she took time off from the station, attempting to give her aching bones some rest.

He plops down onto the couch next to her while she’s flipping through Netflix, and like second nature, her body immediately curls into his. He tucks her in with his arm around her shoulder and a lingering kiss to the top of her head. Second nature, too, that.

“I missed you,” she sighs, turns to press her nose into the side of his neck. Which is why she feels it when he swallows hard, and they still haven’t talked about it - any of it, from the darkness in both of them to the treachery that was Hell. They haven’t had a quiet moment to talk and it’s weighing down on their souls, keeping them awake -

“Aye,” he pulls her in a little closer. “I missed you as well. Even when I didn’t know you, even when I was in  _there_ ,” his voice break a little and she burrows further into his neck, “I always felt like I had a part of me missing.”

Her hand immediately goes to cup the cold metal of the ring. He notices and the corner of his mouth lifts up ever so slightly.

“It suits you,” he says it quiet and a bit unsure, nodding towards the ring. Unsure even after the fact that they’d had a fucking rainbow of colours emerge after they’d kissed. Unsure even after her splitting her heart in two and giving one half to him.

She wants to press her lips against every inch of his skin until his uncertainty fades into just another exhale of his. Instead, she hums in agreement and pulls back to see his face. Her palm moves to his chest then, feeling his heartbeat exactly in time with hers. “This, by the way, is probably what you were missing.” She taps his chest with her index finger once.

His smile grows and she mirrors it. “And now I shall never part with it, or you, again,” he says confidently.

Just like all those speeches he made about being a survivor, like all those pep talks her gave her about her magic. Her pirate and his unwavering belief in them. Her heart could burst with how much it’s growing right now.

It doesn’t take her long to climb onto his lap, knees on either side of him and her palms framing his face. She allows herself that moment of weakness when she asks, “Is that a promise?”

His breath comes out in a stutter. “Aye,” he whispers before his lips are on hers, a slow and solid thing that leaves her dizzy. “I am by your side till you’ll have me, I promise.”

“Good,” she says, her lips brushing against his because she just  _can’t_ pull back from him.

She moves in to capture his bottom lip between both of hers, melting into the ways he hums contentedly, and she thinks maybe she’d rather spend her quiet moments like this than talking, anyway.

-/-

She wonders for days after if the promise was his form of a proposal.

She catches herself staring at the wedding dress shop across the street as she sits at Granny’s, thumbing the ring while her cocoa runs cold.

(If her parents notice that she’s barely paying attention to the conversation, they don’t say a thing about it.)

-/-

“You should just ask him.”

She raises an eyebrow at Henry, cocks her head a little. “Ask who what, kid?”

He rolls his eyes and she would be irritated at that if it wasn’t so much like her. “Ask Killian to…you know,” he lifts up one shoulder in a shrug.

And Emma doesn’t get it, not really, and it must show on her face because Henry huffs out a heavy breath and pointedly looks at the ring she’s absentmindedly twirling between her fingers. She follows his gaze and squints a little as if that’ll help her understand just exactly what he means.

“You want me to…,” she starts slowly and leaves it hanging there.

“Ask him to marry you,” Henry says bluntly and as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like she missed some kind of “The Next Step in Emma and Killian’s Relationship” seminar.

“Woah, how’d you get there?” She won’t deny it, sure, but she’s not ready to go around declaring it either. She’s still getting used to the thought rattling around her head to begin with.

“You’re true love, you share a heart, you dealt with Underbrooke, with  _Hades_ , for him, Mom. It makes sense.” She watches Henry as he watches her, and thinks about his stubborn willingness to go with them to rescue Killian, his undeterred determination when they realised Killian didn’t have his memories. And some part of it, she knows, is Henry’s love for adventure - but the real part of it is his love for his family. Which includes Killian.

“Kid, marriage is a big deal.”

“I know, but you’re happy with him. Like, really happy.”

She sighs, thinking about the last time she had a conversation about marriage with Henry. New York feels like a lifetime ago. “I don’t even know if he wants that.”

Henry tilts his head back and adjusts in his seat a little on the bench. And maybe they shouldn’t be having this conversation in public where anyone - mainly Leroy - could hear them, but Henry’s got that look in his eyes, the one he got right before he’d marched up to memory-less-Killian and introduced himself point blank. “Mom, do you remember when I told you about Operation Light Swan?” Emma nods because how could she forget? “That was for your happy ending. For both of yours. I want you to have that, and Killian wants you to have it with him.”

She sits there looking at her brilliant kid, wondering for the thousandth time how she got so lucky.

The edge of his mouth lifts up like he’s trying too hard not to break out into a full-grin, like he knows he’s gotten through to her. “I know,” he says with his smile growing, “I’m a genius.”

She rolls her eyes, then and nudges his shoulder with hers. “Great, Killian’s smugness is contagious.”

She revels in his laughter as it mixes with her own.

-/-

She wakes up early one morning - which is just another way of saying she barely slept the night before. They’re getting easier, the nightmares, but she still wakes up with a scream halfway through her lips and sweat making its way down her forehead.

(Killian holds her and it helps but she knows it’ll take time before she fully recovers and they stop haunting her altogether.)

She lingers around the kitchen until she settles on making herself some coffee. While she’s watching the Keurig, she slips the ring onto her finger once more. Her free hand comes to twirl it around her finger idly.

That’s when Killian decides to pad his way into the kitchen and snake his arms around her waist from behind. It startles her, to say the least, her magic surging straight to the tips of her fingers until she realises it’s him. What she doesn’t realise is she still has the damn ring on.

“Apologies, love, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he buries his face in her hair, “I was worried.”

 _Worried another curse had hit and taken me from you while we were asleep._ He doesn’t say it but -

There’s a part of her that jumps to the same conclusion every time she wakes up to empty sheets, so. Fairytale couple problems.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she offers lamely and settles more fully into him, her thumbs stroking his brace and the back of his hand. He’s swaying her ever so slightly and he’s been far more affectionate since they came back so it’s almost a part of their routine now.

He turns her around to slant his mouth over hers. When he pulls back, it’s with a mumbled, “You should have awoken me.”

And she knows he hasn’t been sleeping properly either so, no. She’s not going to risk him losing more sleep over her. She shakes her head and moves her hand to thumb the corner of his mouth, lifting it up into a smile.

He catches on, smiling that one smile he’s reserved for her. (Yeah, she’s still cataloguing them.) He smiles until his dimples flash and until crow’s feet form at the edges of his eyes and until -

Until she slides her hand higher to cup his cheek and then his brows furrow. His smile drops and her stomach does the same.

He pulls back and her heart would shatter in a thousand different ways if he didn’t reach a trembling -  _trembling_  - hand up to her own. Her left one. The one with the ring still on and  _fuck_.

He’s holding her hand in his, staring at the ring while his thumb runs over it gently. She watches him carefully, his mouth opening and closing a few times until it settles for just staying closed.

She could lie, make things simpler. Say the chain broke, say she needed to clean the silver, say any damn thing that would remove that look in his eyes that she can’t place. It’s been such a long time since she’s allowed herself to want a future, she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to take it if he doesn’t want it, too. But Henry’s words ring in her head from weeks ago and she thinks of the house and she thinks of him and she just -

“When you were gone,” she says quietly and tears his eyes from the ring to meet hers, “it helped. I got used to it, I think.” It isn’t much, not at all when compared to how much she really wants this, wants him.

“After it all, after the torment I put you through when I was consumed by my darkness, after the things I said,” he shakes his head a little, “you want to-,” he glances at the ring again.

“Hey,” she cups his face with her hands, “that wasn’t you. The man you are is selfless and brave; a hero. And yeah, I guess I’m proposing because I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” She smiles as she says it because she simply can’t help it. It does sound like a pretty great idea.

He blinks a few times and she feels more than sees his smile as it presses against her lips, his arms snaking around her waist to crush her body against his. “I love you,” he mumbles into her mouth, goes to kiss her cheek, her nose, and then rest his forehead against her head.

“I love you, too.” Her fingers stroke the back of his neck, letting the tuft of hair there slip through her fingers.

He grins and she gets it, because she doesn’t think she’ll ever be used to this huge kind of love, either. “And I would be honoured if you’d be my wife and allow me to spend every waking moment with you till the end of my time.”

She moves closer and presses herself completely to him, nose skimming his jawline, smiling so hard she’s sure her face might split straight into two.

“Though,” he hums, “I doubt something as small as my demise will stop us from being together.” She can’t see him but she’s sure he’s got an eyebrow cocked up and just the image of it (and maybe, okay, the sheer happiness she’s feeling) has her bursting into laughter.

She looks up at him and he’s got a crooked smile on - he wears that one when there’s too much to say and nothing comes out. She doesn’t see it too often but she likes it just the same. “How about, till the end of the earth and back?” And _God_ , she’s such a sap, already practically writing her cheesy, ridiculous, over-the-top wedding vows that, sure, aren’t  _exactly_  over-the-top, but -

But Killian looks at her like she’s just lit up the whole fucking room. “Fitting, I like it.”

She runs her thumb along the edge of the ring ( _her_  ring), as she looks at his eyes shining in the growing morning light of their home. And, yeah, she’d say it’s _all_  fitting but that would be the understatement of the century.


End file.
